Dude Where's My Body?
by Romula1
Summary: He, okay, there's not really much reference to the title in this. Very silly Sauron POV thing. Chapter 2 up. V weird...
1. 1st age

DUDE, WHERE'S MY BODY/ANY REFERENCE TO MY BODY IN ANY OF THIS?  
  
Warning: Includes Crossdressing!Sauron, Pervy!Celebrimbor, and N'Orleans!Melkor. And an orc called Shagbag. Imagine Melkor's accent as something similar to Styrker's in X2...Oh, and cross-dressing Sauron sounds like Maylin Monroe, but normal Sauron sounds like Richard E. Grant, okay?  
  
Dude...  
  
"Sir, ah have an awesome preposition fo you..."  
  
Sauron eyed the shady-looking guy in front of him. He'd not met any salesmen as yet, having only just been created, but he sure didn't like to trust the weirdo in black. "I'm listening..." he said mistrustfully.  
  
The fellow snapped his fingers and several nearby mountains collapsed, a snowstorm kicked up over the sea and it started to rain fire. "Mah name's Melkor," he said in his lazy New Orleans drawl. "And ah don' like them Valar being in charge of an Earth that's more mine than theirs. Ah like to torture things, burn things, and freeze things. Now ah hear y'all are one of the most powerful Maiar on Arda..." The flattery was already beginning to work. Sauron felt a proud eyebrow raise. "And ah need some good ol buddies t' guard mah...maison while ah'm out torturin an burnin an freezin...yo see? Ah pay well, ah assure yo."  
  
"And what do I get in return?" Sauron asked in his prescice, clipped English tones, straightening his suit with dignity.  
  
Melkor shrugged. "Ah can make yo a fancy new body...free with fire and bull whip...y'all also get promoted to the rank of Balrog, boy."  
  
Balrog? Sauron rather liked the sound of that. He checked his gold pocket watch before closing it with a snap and extending a hand towards his new boss.  
  
***  
  
"Sooo tedious...so tedious..."  
  
"What did you say my Lord?"  
  
"Sod off." Sauron threw a handy werewolf at the simpering orc in his doorway. When the clattering and snarling ceased, he resumed tapping his well-manicured fingernails on the armrest of his throne.  
  
It was all very well and good making Angband SO terrifying and SO scary and SO evil from the outside, but it did mean that no-one was silly enough to pay him a visit, and Sauron was getting decidedly bored.  
  
He had been amusing himself for the past several hundred years by making a super-breed of killer wolves, and perfecting his shapeshifting. He was currently most fond of his 'Dracula' costume, which he donned whenever he was feeling either a) hungry or b) angsty.  
  
Finally getting bored of tapping out the rhythm to the really good Song of Power he'd just heard on Beleriand FM, Sauron got up in a melodramatic huff and went to his spy-tower to see if there were any upcoming performances of Silmarillion: The Musical at the nearby Nargothrond Theatre.  
  
Instead of that, though, he found a rather odd band of orcs nancing past his tower. Well, most of them were nancing. One was hanging back, admiring the ass on the front orc. Sauron opened his window and hollered down at them some of the lyrics to the song he'd been listening to:  
  
Oi you show yerself!  
  
You're no orc of mine!  
  
Oi you reveal yourself!  
  
Or else on you I'll dine!  
  
The lead orc stopped, and the one who'd been admiring his ass walked straight into him. Some of the others tittered and ran their fingers through their greasy hair. Sauron eyed them suspiciously; orcs did not titter.  
  
Sauron was just about to start singing again when the lead orc called up in a clear voice:  
  
Daddy I'm your orc  
  
Don't be foolish!  
  
Baddy to the bone  
  
I'm your orc to the finish!  
  
"Hmm, you're good..." Sauron admitted. However, he still wasn't sure of the way one of the orcs was filing his toenails.  
  
You lying little pixie!  
  
You're no orc of mine!  
  
Don't you be so tricksy!  
  
I see your game, sunshine!  
  
The orc thought for a moment, then began to sway on the spot. The others joined in (except for the one at the back, who was now drooling as he watched the others dance). They looked like a gospel choir.  
  
No, father dear, no my Lord!  
  
We're your orcs, yes we're your orcs!  
  
Melkor-mmm, Melkor-he's the one we serve!  
  
Sauron-mmm, Sauron-we're true to our words!  
  
I don't trust a manicured orc!  
  
You're no goblins of mine!  
  
I'll pull your ears off with a fork!  
  
Impersonating's a crime!  
  
Mmm, Sauron! Yeah, Sauron!  
  
Weeeee love Sauron!  
  
Aaaall hail Sauron!  
  
The orcs proceeded to dance, until they formed a conga line gradually dancing further away from Angband. Unfortunately, the ogling orc got in the way, and they all tripped over him, falling into a heap of wails and confusion.  
  
"Waaaah! I think I broke a nail!"  
  
Sauron did a double take. Those weren't orcs - they were elves! Quickly he sent out some real orcs to round them up and throw them in a dark pit surrounded by werewolves.  
  
***  
  
"Finrod Felagund...this is more exciting that I could have imagined!" Sauron clapped his hands in glee and peered down at the piqued Elven King. "Hey, you're a bit hairy for an Elf! What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
The being whom Sauron was adressing tore his eyes away from the King's ass and wiped some drool from his stubble. "Uh? Wur? I'm Be-"  
  
"He's Berrybrains, a human of um...Arnor!" Finrod chimed in.  
  
"And what's he doing with a bunch of elves who are pretending to be a travelling band of gospel orcs?"  
  
Finrod smirked. "I'm afriad the only one who knew the answer to that question was my second-in-command, who has just been devoured by yon beast." He pointed to a fat werewolf, which belched in satisfaction.  
  
"Bloody useless mongrels..." Sauron growled, thwapping the canine across the snout with his fiery bullwhip. At the sight of this instrument of torture the Elves cowered, but Berrybrains still drooled and stared. Sauron looked upon them all with scorn, but as he wheeled about and left the chamber, he was thinking to himself what fun he'd have with this lot...  
  
***  
  
"What do you mean 'you ate them all?'" Sauron stared at the wolf in disbelief.  
  
"Growl-grrrrrrrrowl! Grrrrrr!"  
  
"Your tummy was growling? I give UP!" He flung his arms in the air and turned to his window, fed up of dealing with such incompetants.  
  
"Whimper, whine!"  
  
"Which two?"  
  
"Hoooooooowl! Ruff!"  
  
"Finrod and Berrybrains. Hmm. Maybe I'll go torture the elf a bit." Sauron kicked the werewolf as he passed it, heading towards the pit again, relieved that the lunch-happy animal had left two captives alive.  
  
***  
  
"What do you mean 'he just died?'" Sauron stared at the stubbly human in disbelief.  
  
Berrybrains shrugged. He was kneeling next to the body of the Elven King, his gaze still fixed on the Elf's backside. "Jus' did. Guess 'e was all shagged out."  
  
"All sha--Oh forget it!" Sauron huffed, raising his bullwhip to the senseless human.  
  
La la la, la la la la la,  
  
la la la, la la la la laa!  
  
I just can't get you outta my head,  
  
Man your stubble is all I dream about.  
  
I just can't get you out of my bed,  
  
Your stubble's more than I care to think about...  
  
Sauron stopped mid-lash, cursing as the firey tip of his instrument landed on his back. "What in Emyn Gorgoroth is THAT?"  
  
Berrybrains broke into a grin, and ran arms outstretched towards the sound of the music. He was quickly arrested in his progress by the wall of the pit, and with a 'thock' fell backwards in a daze, landing on top of Finrod's body.  
  
Sauron headed to his front door, and opened it to see - much to his outrage - a field of dead werewolves, and an Elvish maiden cowering behind a huge hunting dog. "EEEE, Huan, it's DISGUSTING! Please kill it!" she squealed, pointing at Sauron.  
  
"Now hold on a bloody second--!" but it was too late for talk, and the dog was upon him, pinning him down by the neck. It looked towards its mistress for instructions.  
  
Lúthien peered down at the form of Sauron. "Right, you. Either you let me wreck your home and skidaddle back to Mommy Morgoth, or Huan here decaptiates you."  
  
"You can wreck my home. No, really!" Sauron choked before pushing the infernal hound off his chest and turning into a vampire with a sound like 'bamf!' He glared down at Lúthien and Huan as he fluttered northwards to where Melkor - also known as Morgoth Bauglir - now resided.  
  
***  
  
"Oh shit. Lord, you are not going to like this."  
  
"Oh? What is there not to like, Sauron? Ah still have two Silmarils, ah just kicked the collective asses of the combined Eldar/Edain army, and there are only two sons of Feanor left. Plus the new elven king is too far away to even know where ah live."  
  
"Well, you're not going to like it, Your Grace, but there's a new army. This one not only includes 'Eldar' and 'Edain' as you so charmingly put it, but the other eight Valar. They've just sailed across the sea in boats built by the Teleri. Ooh! Ooops - there goes all our orcs...oh dear! The other Balrogs are sure getting a hard time! Oh - and those dragons are screwed. They're also making one hell of a mess of your front lawn, Melkor."  
  
"Thank you fo that...detailed assessment, Sauron. Now get yo flamin ass out there and defend mah gates!"  
  
"Ah...yes, of course, Lord." Sauron bowed stiffly and strutted forth from the back door. Casting a swift glance over his shoulder he ran as fast as he could into the land of Arnor, before crashing southwards, glancing at the trees of Greenwood as he passed. That would be a cool place for a creepy castle... he thought. Soon he reached Mordor, a land perfect for his current needs. 


	2. 2nd age

DUDE WHERE'S MY BODY? Chapter 2...  
  
"Y'know, sir, there are some elves--"  
  
"DON'T talk to me about elves!" Sauron clutched his armrests of his black throne feverishly. It had been hundreds of years since the Valar had attacked, but Sauron still despised the Eldar, and even more so the Edain in their pretty new island of Númenor.  
  
"But sir, these ones have some really pretty--"  
  
"Shagbag, I am not ordering you anything more from Imladris Today!" Sauron screamed at the orc captain.  
  
"No, sir, I'm thinking of YOU," the orc continued earnestly. Sauron's flattery-sensitive eybrow rose a little and the orc continued, encouraged by this sign. "They're making these rings in Hollin, with the Dwarves in Khazhad-dum...they're, like, rings of power, sir, they give the one who wears them...well...power!"  
  
"Do they really?" Sauron said, stroking his strong jawline thoughtfully.  
  
"They do, sir!"  
  
Sauron shot the goblin a dispassionate glare - the bloody creatures couldn't even recognise a rhetorical question when it came up and asked itself to them. "I must visit Celebrimbor! Fetch me my 'fair' body, will you, Shagbag? These elves won't trust me if I look like some Dark Lord now, will they?"  
  
***  
  
"Oh? And why should I let you see the forging of one of my rings, let alone the recipe book?" The blonde elf looked haughtily down Sauron's top.  
  
"But Mr. Silver, Ah jus want to know how you can make something so...beautiful...if you need to use your own beauty ah can only wonder at the beauty surpassing you must have had before you started making rings, if you're still so beautiful now!" Sauron broke off, his falsetto voice echoing like a sigh. Unfortunately, Shagbag had brought his 'femmy' body, not his 'fair' one, and now he stood in front of the mastercraftself, twirling a dark strand of hair and pretending not to notice the fact that Celebrimbor's nose was getting dangerously close to ticking Sauron's collarbone as he performed 'cleavage-diving' in its most raw form.  
  
"Umm...yeah...me too..." the puzzled elf said. "You do know we gotta search you before you go in, though? And it will have to be a...personal tour, as I won't let anyone else in..."  
  
"Ah understand." Sauron looked solemnly up at the elf, while shuddering inside.  
  
***  
  
"Ah'd like t'order...seven of them...and nine of them...and ah'd say...seventeen of those ones with the jewels..."  
  
"My pleasure..." Celebrimbor grinned toothily down at Sauron's cleavage.  
  
Straightening the seam on his purple skirt, Sauron tottered out of Khazhad-dum, his stiletto heels not the only things beginning to chafe.  
  
***  
  
"Package, sir!"  
  
Sauron tore the box from Shagbag's hand, shaking it a little before ripping off the brown paper. Inside the package were many jewellry boxes, seven in dark red felt, nine in black, and seventeen in navy. "Wonderful!" Sauron breathed, noting the little gold-plated plaques on each one for a name to be put on them.  
  
Sauron was up very late that night, engraving the names of elves and dwarves and men on each plaque. It was increasingly hard for him to concentrate however, as the glitterball he'd bought for Shagbag from Imladris Today was getting a good deal of use from the orcs out on the plains of Gorgoroth. Colours ranging from cyan to neon pink were sparkling and dashing through the black tattered curtains drawn over Sauron's window until all hours.  
  
***  
  
Every ring Sauron had ordered he tweaked just a little with his own dark powers, making them all servants of one that had yet to be forged. Then he went to his wardrobe and pulled out his femmy body. Lifting the mini-skirt a little, Sauron pulled Celebrimbor's recipe book out of the left stocking and skipped gleefully off to his private kitchen in Mount Doom.  
  
The book had recipes for many things - mithril, lembas, elvish hair dye - but the thing Sauron wanted was right at the back of the book, under the heading 'One Ring to Rule them All.' Funky name, Sauron thought. Maybe I'll have that engraved...  
  
So the second Dark Lord donned his apron (which had once read 'kiss the cook,' but now bore the order, 'kiss the Dark Lord's ass') and his thick oven gloves. He brandished his list of ingredients and checked his supplies. "One pound of Hobbit weed...check. One Dwarf...check. One potatoe...check. Three ounces of sugar...check. All my malice...check. All my cruelty...check. All my will to dominate...check!" With that, Sauron set his egg-timer and flung the ingredients into the fires of Mount Doom.  
  
Meanwhile, as Sauron paced impatiently, Celebrimbor arrived at the front door, hiding a bunch of flowers behind his back and hoping to relive a certain experience. Dry ice in the corners of Orodruin began to sublime, making the chamber thick with its fog. Just as the mountain gave a great belch and the One Ring popped out, Celebrimbor sauntered into the murky room.  
  
Giggling like a schoolgirl, Sauron juggled the Ring,   
  
"Abra*choo* Kada*ah-choo* bra*hahaha-choo!" he cried, sneezing from the excessive amount of dry ice.  
  
Unfortunately, Celebrimbor heard this as 'Azg nazg gimbatul' and dropped his posy of flowers in horror, fleeing the lands as fast as his delicate elven feet would carry him.  
  
Sauron turned round in surprise, still rubbing his nose from all the sneezing. "Shagbag? Was that you?" he called, then upon seeing the bunch of flowers his face darkened. "So, it is time to put my little plan into action..."  
  
***  
  
"Sir, there's a really gothic bunch of men at the door..." Shagbag whined.  
  
"I know," his master said pleasantly. "Let them in, then!"  
  
Shagbag cautiously pulled the door open and stood in the shadows as nine tall warriors entered, all garbed in dastardly looking metal armour and flowing black tattered robes.  
  
"Gentlemen!" Sauron cried, clapping his palms together with glee. "I trust we are all happy with our presents then?"  
  
Several of the creatures let out piercing shrieks or wails of agony and Sauron's toothy grin broadened. "Good, good! Now I have a little task for you, my Nazgul..." 


End file.
